Silly Boy
by histrashexcellency
Summary: A day in the life of Tweek Tweak from his perspective. How he copes with things and at the end of the day, tries to remember that life isn't entirely bad.


You wake to the start of screams dying in your throat, your mouth a funeral for unvoiced hysteria- unpleasant and ashy. Heart pounding like a hummingbird in your chest, skin clammy and cold, breaking out in a light sheen of sweat and you begin your first fight: wrestling your panicked thoughts about dying back in place- some days you win, other days you aren't so lucky.

Today, you win. But not by much. It leaves you tired, the interior of your head faintly humming, and you know today's going to be another weird brain day again. You ease your way out of bed and then comes the second battle. Your fingers shake even without the caffeine, the buttons of your shirt slipping out of the eyelets ever so often, you're tempted to just rip it and go without. But that would mean exposing yourself to danger and you aren't that keen on dying just yet thank you very much. Well you could wear a t-shirt but what if you get your head stuck removing or putting it on and strangle yourself? It could happen!

The caffeine helps kickstart you and some of the exhaustion fades to join the rest in the background in soft pulsing mush inside your head. You try not to flinch when you feel insects skim across your skin as you leave and bade your parents goodbye. You give them hugs but the moment they close their arms around you, you jolt because you feel the pressure in your ribs pressing and pressing and concaving like cages and what if they crush you? Their touch makes the insects crawl more and you hate it but you don't make a sound. You let them hold you and then you tell them you're headed to school, and that you love them because they could die today and they'll die thinking you hate them but you don't! And you don't want them to die either! Jesus Christ, your hands are clammy again. There's just so much pressure!

The walk to the bus station is short but it feels almost too much to deal with. You see people approaching and you twist to avoid them because they could bump into you and steal your wallet or worse, they could stick a shank in you and you'll end up dying in the snow with no one to help. What if they wanted to take your organs? You hear snatches of conversation everywhere, people talking on the phone- they laugh and oh god they just looked at you. Are they talking about you? What did that want from you? You don't remember offending anybody!

Except maybe Cartman, but that's because he's a son of a bitch and you really wish they'd kept him. But you're okay. You're going to be okay. It's light out and if they follow you, you can see them and you can scream real loud so they can't take you away without others knowing. God, you wish you could turn back and walk on home where it's safer. You've shoved your underpants in the hole the gnomes came from so they can't get through and steal your blood, you've also taped up the webcam on your computer and threw out your radio so no one can spy on you so it's safe. But you can't do that because you still have to attend school. Your friends are going and they could die! So you have to go to make sure they aren't dead!

You've exhausted yourself by the time you reached the bus stop, the relief upon seeing all your friends palpable almost. You don't speak much except the times where you have to but you make sure to give them smiles even through your fidgeting and involuntary noises even though you can't feel your face oh god is it eaten off by the insects? what's your lips doing? Your friends mistake your sudden violent shudder as being cold- they press closer to you, and you…okay. This is okay.

You see Token giving looks from the sides of his eyes and you know that even though he doesn't say anything, he knows that you're having a rough day. He's being nice. He's always thoughtful- peacekeeping and diplomacy's part of a rich kid thing you suppose. But you don't like it. You don't like being treated like you're unstable or you're glass. So you try to participate more, and you hope that you weren't saying anything offensive because oh god what if they get angry at you and they leave then you'll be alone again and you hate that. You'd rather put up with being treated like a burden than be alone because that's when they get you. The shadow people lurking in the corners of your eyes and slipping away (too slow!) when you look at them. The there but not there touches. The static so much static. Your voice comes out all squeaky and off kilter but you try and you aren't entirely sure you're making sense but Token nods along so you must be.

You make sure to tighten your seat belt and hold onto the edges of the seat so tightly, your knuckles turn white when you board the bus and you try not to cry LOOK OUT each time the bus lady turns back to yell at fucking Cartman and the rest of his gang. Your heart trying to beat out of your violently, breathing coming in spluttering gasps. You don't even respond when someone notices and calls you a spaz but you're grateful all the same for the middle finger Craig flips up at them. He and you trade insults sometimes and he can be really blunt but at the same time, fiercely loyal too.

Clyde insists on touching you as you walk, slinging a casual arm around you and you scream again but he's undeterred. He holds you like this until you stop shaking, all easy eyes and bright smile and soft. He slings his other arm around one of the guys as you walk and guides you gently but insistently through the alley way, distracting you from everything with jokes and quips he throws back and forth with Craig and you think that's his own way of looking out for you. But also his way of caring even though it makes your insides squirm, sometimes.

By the time the day ends and you're able to retreat back to your room, you feel wrung out. Wrought. Wrong and shaking to pieces, collapsing into yourself. There's so much pressure man. So much pressure. And you don't want to sleep either because in your dreams they reach for you and you can't stop them. Can't beat them away like you can with people. So you stay awake with the lights on, clutching yourself to stop breaking apart. Your fingers shake as you held onto your phone and each vibration of a new message sends you spiraling off again but you hold onto it even more.

Your friends send each other stupid memes and references, and take the mickey out of each other just as much through group texts as they do in real life. And you suppose that's a constant. One of the constants you've grown to latch onto because when you doubt yourself, you don't doubt that. Your name is Tweek Tweak and you hate how fractured and weird your brain is. You hate how things don't seem to make sense and how nobody seems to listen.

You aren't okay. And you know sometimes people talk about how you're just one step away from the deep end and you know that that might be true. But as you let the inevitable nature of sleep take over, you remember that your friends know that too. And they don't really care about that. You don't see what they see in you that makes them stick around but they do, and they never really stopped even though you're kind of really fucking crazy.

And that's enough. Not by much but it will have to be enough. You make sure to tell them that you love them before you succumb to sleep and you smile when they make fun of you a little for that, because you know they smile with their voices and their eyes.

Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow you will wake up, and you will go to school.

You will make sure that they are okay.


End file.
